Last Sunday, we celebrated Father’s Day. There were cards with handprints, neckties that may or may not ever be worn, backyard cookouts, phone calls, social media tributes and children proudly presenting homemade gifts involving glue, glitter and questionable spelling. Father’s Day gives us a chance to say what should probably be said more often: Dads…

My husband is a wild sleeper. And I don’t mean he occasionally rolls over with a dramatic sigh. I mean he talks. He moves. He swings his legs. He basically sleeps with the same level of animation and commentary he has when he is awake. It is, in a word, maddening. There are few things…

We recently moved into a house that is almost 100 years old, which means every day feels like a small adventure in charm, character and “what is that sound?” It has old floors, old doors, old windows and the kind of quirks you only love after you’ve signed the mortgage paperwork. It also has raspberry…